


two lives i hold: mine and his

by sassymordechais (archiveofwebs)



Series: pressed flowers and dried notes [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Barnabas!Martin, Bossy Martin, Cute, Fanshawe!Jon, Language of Flowers, M/M, Past Lives, that's very important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archiveofwebs/pseuds/sassymordechais
Summary: “...I know…”“What?”Scritch, scritch, swish. Crunch.“I...know. That you’re him.”Scritch...scritch...swoosh.“I know that you’re Jonathan Fanshawe.”-In which two identities are revealed, mistakes come to light, a friendship is rekindled.
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Mordechai Lukas, Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Fanshawe/Jonah Magnus, Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: pressed flowers and dried notes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720969
Comments: 7
Kudos: 73





	two lives i hold: mine and his

“...I know…”

“What?” 

_Scritch, scritch, swish. Crunch._

“I...know. That you’re him.”

_Scritch...scritch...swoosh._

“I know that you’re Jonathan Fanshawe.”

_Crash!_

“What!” Jon was on his feet in an instant, barely keeping himself upright without his cane. It was nearby, within grasp, but panic had settled into his brain like an alarm.

“Shit! Jon, sit back down! Sit back down right now!” 

“No! No...not until you tell me...ah.. _Scheiße!_ ” Heavily leaning on the large desk but still not reaching for his cane, Jon stared with wide eyes at Martin. 

“Jonathan you better sit down this instant before I make you sit down, you dimwitted Yarrow!”

“Don’t yell at-what did you just call me?”

“Yarrow! Because they represent healing and inspiration and despite me always telling you to rest when you get back from your trips you always run off and then I have to fix your bandages! Which is-”

“Barnabas?”

“Yes! Now back to what I was-oh...yea...hello Jonathan…”

“Barna-”

“Jonathan!” Rushing forward to catch Jon as he toppled forward, Martin (or rather Barnabas, no he was still Martin) quickly wrapped his arms around the frail man and quickly ushered him back into his seat. 

“You are a stubborn, stubborn fool. I should call you- I should call you- okay I can’t think of a flower right now but I am mad at you! I can’t believe what you just did.” A shaking hand came up to gently touch Martin’s cheek and the redhead calmed down instantly. 

“ _Barnabas. My dearest Barnabas.”_

_“_ Yes, it’s me, Jonathan.”

“You...you were just gone…I went to visit and your manor was empty. Nothing. Your tools, machines, clothes. Just empty walls and empty mannequins. What happened?” 

“Nothing.”

“Barnabas…”

“A bet was lost and I paid the price. There was one phone a friend and I...made the wrong choice.”

“I looked for you…you could have asked me...”

“Yes, but you were busy dealing with Jonah. And I didn’t...I didn’t want to be the reason you two had a falling out. I saw the way you looked at him, Jonathan. I couldn’t be the reason for your heartbreak. My problem was between myself and Mordach-”

“He did that to you? What did-The Lonely! He-” Quickly wrapping Jon in his arms, Martin hummed to calm the other man down. He didn’t want the man to seek out the closest Lukas in an act of revenge. 

And even though Jonah had ignored his letter, he didn’t want to be the wedge that came between Jon and Elias. He hadn’t wanted that in the last and he certainly didn’t want it now. 

“Martin! Barnabas! Let me go! Let me-”

“Jon.”

“Martin!”

“No. Be still.” 

It was like cords being cut, Jon collapsing in his arms. 

Jonathan collapsing in his arms. 

Looking back, Martin realizes he can pinpoint the exact time that Jon remembered his past. His words dulled, still fast and harsh, but not sharp. He took Martin’s tea and didn’t let it sit. Martin was even privy to some of Jon’s thoughts about statements. 

He remembers days where he and Jonathan would sit by the roaring fire, a sketchbook in his hands as he sketched a new suit for a customer while Jonathan described the newest town that required his knowledge. He remembers days where they would go for a night on the town, being joined later in the evening by Mordechai and Jonah. He remembers…

He remembers his only friend. He remembers a man that looked at his sketches when he was a teen (the man barely in his twenties) and asked for a suit. He remembers a swarm of customers at his parent’s home when Jonathan wore it to some fancy dinner party. 

He remembers-

He remembers…

He remembers. 

“Jonathan. I’m sorry I didn’t write to you. Reach out to you. I...I know that things between you and Jonah were on the precipice and I didn’t want to be the thing that pushed it over. I thought...I thought I could deal with Mordechai on my own, when I received no response. I’m not even sure he got my letter…”

“ _Your loyal servant, Barnabas.”_

“I-yes. What?” There was a hand covering Jon’s eyes, his own. Despite the tight clench, Martin could make out the tears streaming down his face. 

“He...that bastard got the letter. It’s...it’s sitting in his damn desk. I hate this. Barnabas, I hate this. I...I broke things off with him once I realized what he was becoming, what he wanted me to take part in. Now look at me, the linchpin in his master plan.”

“Jonathan…”

“He used you too, you know. Both of them.”

“I know.” Martin pulled Jon closer, head swimming from both the onslaught of information and emotions. “I thought...I thought he loved me, Jonathan. I really did.”

“And he fed you to his god.”

“I hate them. Him. It. I hate everything about this.” Hate was such a strong word for someone like him. He liked soft words, gentle words. Flowers. Not words with such anger behind them.

“I know. I know, Barnabas. Believe me, I know.”

“Do you know? If he’s…”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t. The Forsaken are hard to read, hard to See, hard to Know.”

“I see...hah!”

“Barnabas no. Please no eye jokes. I can’t stand your flower puns. Please don’t do this to me. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Hm...nope! Come on, let’s get your cane and get you home. It’s late enough and I think we are both exhausted.” Distractions. Keeping Jon, Jonathan distracted was a good thing. They could worry about these things later, when they were out of the Institute. 

“Helping yourself to my couch now? Where are you manners, Barna- ah, Martin?”

“I once watched you flash your ankles at Jonah at a banquet. Don’t talk to me about manners, you slut.”

“Such harsh language! You aren’t Barnabas! Impostor! Also take that back! I did no such thing.” As Jon laughed himself silly before crying in outrage, Martin quickly ushered them to the door. Glancing up at the Eye motifs on the wall, he was happy to note the fog that covered them. 

Good. 

“Oh, I think you did. You were wearing that black silk and lace gown-”

Click.

-

_Barnabas? Then that means…_

_Jonathan._

_My love._

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I am very weak to Barnabas/Mordechai and then got thinking about Peter/Martin and then was like...do you know how much angst I could write if I wrote Barnabas!Martin? Also I love the idea of Fanshawe!Jon so...
> 
> LISTEN I THINK THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN FRIENDS! BARNABAS AND FANSHAWE! 
> 
> :)
> 
> I'm over on twitter[@sassymordechais](https://twitter.com/sassymordechais)! I just post a lot about these boys...I love them so much...


End file.
